


The Emptiness of a Soul

by I_refuse_to_be_ashamed



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Dystopia, Dystopian, Empty, F/F, Gen, M/M, Memory Loss, Other, Ship, Slow Burn, Undertale AU, Underverse, antivoid, its actually kind of depressing, so like, there may or may not be some kidnapping, undertale - Freeform, void
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29971056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_refuse_to_be_ashamed/pseuds/I_refuse_to_be_ashamed
Summary: Error has won the war over the aus.  What will happen when they all disappear?  More importantly, how can they be brought back?  Follow Ink!sans and Error!frisk as they search for the lost souls, in a hope to restore the multiverse to it's former glory.
Relationships: Charisk - Relationship, Errink, Error/Ink, Errorink
Comments: 9
Kudos: 16





	1. Destruction

**Author's Note:**

> I know Error!frisk technically doesn't exist, but I need them in the story, otherwise it can't work the way I want it to. Also, there may be some grammatical errors, if you find any let me know. (this is my first time posting on Ao3, forgive me.)
> 
>   
> I have somehow managed to get COVID, excuse me for being slow, I'll try to upload as much as possible and as soon as I feel better I'll return to the normal schedule, I am so, so sorry.
> 
> My tumblr is @helpimscaredlol  
> My discord is @smiles.tm#5537  
> DM me if you have any questions :D

The room was dusty. The floorboards were worn, the paint was peeling off the walls, the room itself contained nothing but a table, chair, and bed. The table was wooden, its origins unknown, and the chair was one of those fold up chairs that you’d expect to see during a 2nd grade recital. The bed consisted of a mattress with a sheet and pillow thrown on top of it. It was a lonely room, but to Ink, it was home.

Ink couldn’t remember how long it had been since he found this place. As a social creature, he imagined it would’ve been torture to live in such an empty place. But the destruction of the timelines had left the multiverse in ruin. Emptiness engulfed the existence of this place, and Ink had grown used to it. Silence. The multiverse existed in a state of chaotic calm, and it no longer bothered ink.

It had been a long time since then. Ink was too trusting, and in the end, Error was able to destroy the final timeline. Well, not the final timeline, it was the last timeline that existed outside the original. With its destruction, the base timeline collapsed. The base timeline thrived off of the other’s existence, and without any other timelines, those who inhabited the original were thrown into confusion. They no longer felt they served purpose, and did not know why. Because of this, the timeline altered its code. But there were too many errors, and in the end, it erased itself from existence. 

Nothing was left. Only those who existed as individual characters, those who did not own their own timeline could exist. But without simple necessities, such as food and water they began to die off. Until Ink was left alone. Without a soul, Ink could not exist, or cease to exist. He simply was, and he knew he would be forced to continue being. With the last of his motivation, he made this house. The first few weeks were lonely. Eventually, he stopped using his vials, coming to the conclusion that emptiness would be better than misery.

And here he is. Alone, in an old empty house, in an old empty universe.

Ink sighed, deciding to burn the last of the candle he’d managed to craft a long while back. It gave him no joy, or comfort to watch the candle burn. It just gave him something to do. Ink held no desire for boredom. He already spent a majority of his time sleeping, and the small amount of time he was awake, he mostly spent watching the candle burn. Of course, he did other things, like rearranging his living space, or folding his sheets into new and different shapes, but he did not prefer to do those things. Those things required thought, something that Ink had grown to hate in his loneliness.

He watched the flame flicker, before dying completely. Ink had made his candle out of some old string, torn from the bedsheet, and some plastic from his belt, which he had wrapped tightly around the string, before making a vase out of one of his old stamps. Plastic melts slowly, so he would have to constantly relight the candle, but he didn’t mind. It was some sort of entertainment, after all.

His brush had stopped working soon after the creation of the house. Ink never thought about what he could’ve done had the magic stayed with it, and he never intended to. In fact, even to the point at which we see him now, he hasn’t thought of what he would’ve, or could’ve done. 

Ink had fallen asleep again. When he did think, he wondered if the next time he fell asleep would be the last. He was an immortal being, yes, but…surely, one day he wouldn’t awaken again. He was sure that one day, he would fall into a never-ending sleep. He neither feared or yearned for that day, he simply awaited it to grace him with its presence.

Ink awoke to the sound of knocking. Even without his vials to give him emotion, he could feel a twinge of fear as a wave of confusion washed over him. A sound that was not made by him. But Ink was the only creature to exist in the multiverse, how could something exist outside of his knowledge, much less something living? Slowly, Ink got to his feet and stumbled towards the door. He placed his hand on the handle, and let the door swing open to greet this new guest. 

His eyes met with a child’s, their eyes were filled with fear, and they were trembling as if before them stood something horrifying. The child turned as if expecting someone to be behind them, but there was nothing there. A moment of silence followed the child’s arrival, before Ink managed to cough up a few words.

“H…hello, I…I didn’t know that anyone else was still alive…”

The child jumped, as if it was startled to hear Ink speak. Its eyes widened, and Ink could make out a flicker of hope in them. 

“Um… are you Ink Sans?” The child was eagerly awaiting his response.

“Yes.” Ink had not spoken in a very, very long time. It was strange to be talking to a child after all that time.

“Oh!” The child’s voice was filled with excitement. “Do you by chance know an Error Sans?”

Error…Ink recognized the name, but couldn’t remember who it belonged to. Somewhere in the far, far corners of his mind, he could visualize a dark figure. Just the outline of that figure managed to bring some sort of sadness, and somehow, sprinkled in there was comfort.

The child stared at Ink for a while, before shaking their head and apologizing. “I’m Frisk, sorry, I never introduced myself.”

Ink shook his head. “Oh, right.”

“I’m from Error’s timeline. I’ve recently found that there are other survivors, other immortals, like myself.”

Ink forced a smile, “Oh? Did all the other Frisks survive too?”

Frisk slowly shook their head, “Unfortunately…no. I’m the only one so far.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s not your fault, anyways, I’m trying to find Error.”

Ink was slightly shocked at the sharpness of their tone. Cautiously, Ink questioned them, “Can I ask…why?”

“He’s the one who did all this, right?” Frisk grimaced, “And…he’s from my timeline, so he’s kind of my responsibility.”

“He’s no one’s responsibility.” Ink was regretting opening the door.

Frisk sighed, and asked calmly, “Fine then, but either way, can you please help me look for him?”

Ink tried to force a smile once again, but failed. “Didn’t he…kill himself after the destruction?”

“Nope.”

“Huh? But he-“

“He went into hiding. Me and him are glitched out, making us similar in style and trait, but we don’t really…belong anywhere.”

“So…there were others like him…” Ink muttered to himself, oblivious to the fact that he was speaking aloud, and to a child.

Frisk seemed to be getting annoyed. “Look, are you going to help me or not?”  
Ink was silent for a moment. “I’ll try…but…I won’t be great company, and, I probably won’t be too helpful…”

Frisk grinned, “As long as you try your best!”

Ink stared at Frisk. They felt familiar, yet Ink was sure they’d never met before. They stared back at him, making Ink feel awkward.

“So…what now?” Ink asked, glancing at their familiar markings. Tear like purple streaks covered their cheeks. The hair on one side of their head was missing, and the opposite eye had been replaced with a sort of blue liquid.

“We start looking tomorrow.” Frisk had already gone inside the small house, and was looking around. They seemed comforted by the thought that in the middle of this realm of emptiness, an old house could still thrive.

Ink turned to go inside, shutting the door behind him. He sat on the bed and watched Frisk explore the room. He could tell that they hadn’t been somewhere with this much color in a long time, even if the room was just a few shades of brown, black and white. After they’d had their fun exploring, they came down and sat next to Ink. Frisk smiled at Ink, commenting on how nice the house was. Ink expressed surprise, and stated how it was falling apart, pointing to the peeling walls, and the creaky, stained floorboards. Frisk shook their head.

“It’s better than what I had.”

Ink was silent. He somehow felt pity for this child, who had to live on their own, likely without a home like his. He sighed, stood up, and told Frisk to get some sleep. In the end, Ink would stay up all night making a new candle, that he would never use.


	2. Like Walking on Air

The next morning, or, what they perceived as morning, as there was no difference visually between night and day, they left the house. The multiverse was as Ink had expected it to be; empty. There was no sky, the ground had no grass, no pavement. Everything was blank, like an unused piece of paper. Every once in a while, they’d come across some sort of relic, left by the few survivors who had since passed. Dream’s cape, someone’s slipper, a few teardrops, sometimes an empty ketchup bottle, and even someone’s broken glasses. You could see these objects from miles away, as there was nothing else present to obstruct one’s view.

“It’s lonely, isn’t it?” Frisk’s question broke Ink’s train of thought.

“What’s lonely?” Ink was sure he already knew the answer to his own question, but asked anyways.

“I mean…you’ve probably been shut away in that house for centuries, right?”

Ink’s pace slowed. Centuries…he figured it could’ve been that long. He glanced up at Frisk, who was joyfully walking a few feet ahead of him. He came to the realization that this was no child, but instead a soul that had been trapped in a child’s body. Ink admired their optimism, and determination. Determination? Maybe not…he felt like it would be an insult to the previous Frisks to admire them for that. After all, their soul trait was decided without their input, and to admire one over all the rest would be an offense to them. No…he didn’t admire Frisk for their determination, he admired them for their persistence. 

“Hurry up!” Frisk had turned around to glare at Ink, “You are way too slow, we’re never going to find him if you don’t walk faster.”

“Do you even know where we’re going anyways?” Ink was jogging to catch up with Frisk.

“Of course! We’re going to the anti-void!” Frisk seemed confused, as if Ink should’ve known what they were going to say.

“That…still exists?” Ink had finally caught up to Frisk, “I don’t…understand. How can an anti-void exist without a universe?”

“What do you mean, ‘without a universe’? Even if the universe is empty, it’s still a universe. Man…you’re the last person I’d expect to be so uninformed.”

Frisk was talking like they knew Ink. As in, they sounded like Ink was some sort of old buddy, even though they had just met the previous afternoon.

Frisk gave a little cough, as if something had made them uncomfortable. They walked in silence for a few minutes. Unbearable, deafening silence. 

“So…how far a walk is the anti-void anyways?”

“Three more hours.”

“Huh?”

“We’re about three hours away.”

“How do you kn-“ Frisk had pulled some sort of device out of their pocket, and was fidgeting with it. Ink thought it looked familiar, he just didn’t know why. “What’s that?” He questioned.

“Hm? Alphys made it for me.”

“Alphys?”

“Yeah? You know, the doctor?”

Ink was silent. Not only did a Frisk survive, but so did another Sans, and Alphys? And he…never helped them. But…they never came for him either. At least, not until now. He let his mind stray. He wondered why these strange anomalies came to get him. Surely, if Error was ever with them, they would know what kind of a person Ink was. Error hated Ink. Ink knew this very well, and so did not understand why someone associated with Error would come to get Ink. Especially considering Ink lived in the middle of nowhere, in a rundown house, without a soul, without emotion, there was no reason. In the end, Ink shrugged it off. He was sure he’d figure out the reason soon enough.

“We’re here!” Frisk was glowing with enthusiasm.

“But…it’s just a wall…?” Before them stood a seemingly never-ending wall, stretching up, down, and around them. 

“No…no,” Their tone was irritated, “it’s on the other side of the wall.”

Ink stared at the wall. There was no evidence of a door, hole or even crack. It was as smooth as it could be. He put his hand up to the wall to feel it, maybe there was an entrance somewhere? His hand phased through the wall, and shocked, he stumbled backwards.

Frisk was laughing hysterically. “Right…right,” they took a breath, “you haven’t seen it yet.”

They turned to him and nodded, signaling for him to follow. Frisk then walked through the wall, and with much hesitation, Ink followed.


	3. Flicker of Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this between like, 8:00 pm and 2:00 am, and I was sick and shit so just keep that in mind while reading it. Also no one proofread this chapter so...

For a moment, Ink thought he heard voices. Not those voices, but the voices of other people, people who weren’t…him. He could hear their laughter, their confusion, their anger. He wanted to stay in that moment forever, relishing in the emotions of others, the sound of life which he had not been blessed with for centuries, but as quickly as it had captured him, it disappeared. Before him stood a distorted Alphys, Mettaton, Undyne, Toriel, Asgore, Asriel, Chara and Papyrus. Ink was in shock. A whole timeline, it seemed, had managed to continue living. It made no sense to him, but these people, they smiled at him. They seemed happy to see him, to greet him and welcome him. 

Frisk seemed to sense his hesitation, and realized that they hadn’t explained the situation yet. They took a deep breath and started to speak.

“We’re from the original timeline. It collapsed trying to rewrite itself…right? But…we managed to survive. We didn’t want to scare the rest of you, so we’ve been keeping to ourselves. But once we realized that everyone else seemed to have…perished, we started to explore. We found all the different things left behind by those of you who were determined to live, and eventually, Sans-I mean Error, found your house. He showed it to us before he left. He did…a lot for us before he left. That’s why we want to find him.”

Ink was silent for a moment, as he thought about what Frisk had just told him. Then, he asked, “You refer to Error as Sans…but he existed long before any of this happened. What happened to your Sans…?”

Frisk turned to the group of people, and they all shared a moment of silence.

“He…uh…well…he…” Frisk’s voice trailed off. Chara left the group and walked over to Frisk, putting a hand on their shoulder in an attempt to comfort them. 

“He’s dead. That’s all you need to know,” Chara hesitated, “Error helped us live, and that’s why we need you to help us look for him. According to him, you two used to be…close? Yeah, I guess that’s how he described it.”

Another moment of silence. There were a few muffled sobs from Toriel, and Alphys turned to Undyne, who nodded hesitantly. 

“Will you help us?” Alphys sounded hesitant, yet much more confident from all the other versions of her that Ink had met.

“Why else do you think I’m here?” Ink was trying to smile, but it seemed to make the humans uncomfortable, so he stopped.

Everyone seemed to relax a little. For the first time since passing through the wall, Ink took the time to observe the surrounding area. It appeared to be the same empty space as the outside, the only difference being that there were a few pieces of worn furniture, and miscellaneous objects had been strewn throughout the area, similar to the items of clothing and bits of rotten food left lying around in the multiverse, except these resembled toys. 

Ink felt a tap on his shoulder. “Yes…?”

Papyrus was staring down at him. “Sans…? Is it really you?”

Despite being practically emotionless, seeing Papyrus look at him like that, and say those words with such sadness, filled him with guilt. He took a step back, and looked away. But before he could say anything, Undyne had come up to Papyrus and guided him away.

“He’s not your Sans, Papyrus. I’m sorry, but we’ve been over this before, he…” Her voice faded as they grew farther away.

Ink stood awkwardly where he was, waiting for someone to give him instructions.

He saw Frisk walking towards him, and stepped forward to greet them. 

“Ink.”

“Oh, uhm…yes?”

Frisk grabbed to corner of his sleeve, and led him to, what Ink guessed, was their personal space. Like, a bedroom or playroom without walls. Frisk sat on the floor, and Ink followed. 

Frisk seemed to be forcing a smile. “Let’s get you up to date.”

Ink waited patiently for the child to continue, but they just sat there, staring at the ground. “O-…”

Frisk interrupted him. “So, before the collapse of our timeline, Error came to see us. He told us that he had looked into the code, and something was wrong. We didn’t believe him at first, for, obvious reasons. But as things started to get weirder and weirder, we started to believe him. He helped us prepare for its collapse, finding ways to salvage our code, and helping us hold on to as much as we could. He…during the collapse…he got hurt. We were able to save him, but through that process, Alphys…did something to his soul. He can’t die anymore. I’m not entirely sure what happened…something about…fabricating his…anyways. He left shortly after that. We haven’t seen him in a long time, I think close to a century.”

Frisk glanced up at Ink, signaling that they were finished speaking, and Ink lowered his head to process the story. He heard a voice call Frisk’s name, and they got up to leave. Before they did, thought, they turned and gave Ink a light tap on the shoulder. “Take your time.” They said under their breath.


	4. Footsteps

It had been a few years since that day; the day when Ink was finally able to see the truth. The group hadn’t started to look for Error yet, as Ink needed to get used to the idea of being with people again. But today, today was they day they were going to set out. 

Ink watched Frisk and Chara as they tackled Asriel with a group hug. They were all laughing, and it still shocked Ink that they were so childish. Undyne had prepared a team to go looking for Error, which consisted of Ink, Frisk, Chara, Alphys and Asriel. Undyne had said that she needed to stay back to look after Papyrus, and that Toriel and Asgore were clearly in no shape to travel as far as the group would likely need to. The children were close to Error, so if anyone knew where he’d likely be, it’d be them. Alphys’s science skills would be needed, especially if someone were to get hurt. And Ink was backup, he was stronger than the rest of them, and knew how to properly fight. 

The children were talking with Toriel and Asgore, while Alphys and Undyne seemed to be having a moment. Ink was uncomfortable. He knew they must be sad to have to separate, but he couldn’t understand that sadness, no matter how hard he tried. He was a soulless creature, making emotion difficult for him to feel, or understand. He knew the feeling of sadness, he had a few memories in which the emotion was present, and strong. But he’d never had to deal with it the way that these people had to. But then they all turned to him, inviting him to say his goodbyes. He waved at them from where he stood, not wanting to interrupt the small bit of time they had left together.

And then they were ready. Undyne gave Alphys a goodbye kiss, Toriel and Asgore shared one last hug with their children, and then everyone came together one last time, before Ink and the others finally turned to leave. They approached the wall, and Ink watched as the children walked through it without hesitation. Alphys paused to glance back at Undyne, who gave a weak smile and nodded. Ink put his hand out, as if to make sure the wall wasn’t solid. As expected, his hand phased through it, and without looking back, he stepped forward.

The multiverse was the same as it had been when Ink left it, as he had expected. Frisk and Asriel were chasing each other around in circles, while Chara watched them. Alphys seemed to be in awe at how large it was, and Ink was just standing there, observing. Alphys turned to Ink, and quietly asked,  
“At one time, this place…was it filled with Alternate timelines?”

Ink nodded, and Alphys glanced around, as if she didn’t believe him. Ink let out a sigh.

“Let’s go?”

The children stopped chasing each other and looked at him, as if they’d forgotten what they were supposed to be doing. Alphys snorted at their confused expressions. Ink started walking, and silently, the others followed him. 

After a while he stopped. “Uh…Frisk?”

Frisk looked up at him, “Hm?”

“I don’t know where we’re going.”

Frisk blinked a few times, and asked, “Are you sure?”

Ink stared at the child. “Yes, I’m sure?”

Frisk’s expression was painted with confusion, but they took the lead anyways. “You were going the right way.”

“How can you even tell, it all looks the same to me.” Ink said quizzically.

Frisk paused. “You see that?” They pointed to a spot on the wall which seemed to be slightly darker than the rest. “That’s North.”

Ink observed the darker area. “So if that’s North…” Ink turned and pointed in the opposite direction, “…that must be South, right?”

Frisk nodded. “Yup.”

And with that, they began forward again. Ink made note that they seemed to be walking to East, and kept his eyes peeled for anything suspicious. 

It was a few hours before the group heard something. Upon hearing this sound, Ink stopped, and turned to face the direction it came from. At first, he saw nothing, but then…

“Ink?!”


	5. Colors Calling out into a Colorless World

There was a long silence. Ink glanced back at the rest of his group. They all seemed to be confused.

“Fresh…?” Frisk’s tone was cautious.

Ink blinked a few times. So… it was him. He lifted his hand to cover his eyes. Some sort of strange guilt had come over him, he wasn’t used to this feeling. He thought he was the only survivor, the only one still here to carry on this world’s existence, yet so many were left. He abandoned them. All of them, forced to exist in despair because of him. For a moment, he thought that if he…if he had just been better, stronger, if he had the emotion to deal with it properly, he could’ve saved them. 

But he didn’t.

“Yo Frisk! Wassup my dude? Seems you gained a not-so-radical friend there, buddy? Maybe you wanna take a break and come hang with me, we can go all up and play in the void over there, right lil’ bud?”

Frisk was visibly uncomfortable. Chara came up behind them, and gestured for Ink to follow. Ink glanced back at Fresh, and hesitated. Chara glared at him, a feeble attempt to tell him that it was serious. A few more nods and glances and they were off again. 

“What…was that all about?” 

Silence. Ink decided to leave the subject alone, considering how reluctant everyone seemed to discuss it. His head was pounding. He stifled a laugh, thinking of how Fresh’s strange words and uncanny clothing still managed to leave him stunned. In this colorless void of a universe, people would still find ways to their precious colors. Colors…Ink used to love color. Each timeline had its own shade. He remembered, he each time a new timeline popped up, he would give it a color. For a moment, Ink stopped. Infinite colors were spinning before him, dripping, splashing, slamming. For just a moment, Ink let himself slip away into his mind, allowing the relief of his memories to comfort him, losing himself in the mass of color. 

“Hey, hurry up!”

He heard a voice calling him. He expected it. As he forced himself to return to reality, he saw a figure. It was far from him, yet something urged him to call out to it. It turned, and looked at him. 

“I’m…coming…” Ink blinked a few times, clearing his eyes of what he had just seen. Focusing on the path in front of him, he saw that Frisk and the others had made progress on the road ahead, having walked almost a quarter of a mile from where he was standing. He started after them, wanting to close the gap between them, but something seemed to be pulling him back. He took a step forward, and another, and another…until something flashed before his eyes. He glanced down, and froze. He was standing in a puddle of blood. It wasn’t his own blood, as he felt no pain, but nonetheless it was blood. He took a step back, and turned. Where was it coming from? In his panic that sent him spiraling backwards, he felt his foot hit something. It was cold. Hesitantly, he glanced down at it. There, at his feet, lay a bird. The bird was motionless, and its wings had been torn from its body. 

There was no reason for a bird to exist here, as only sentient beings were spared from the collapse, and most of those beings died before then. A feeling of dread seized Ink’s body. He bent down, examining the bird closely. Upon closer inspection, the wings, which had appeared to be torn from the body, were instead neatly cut off, as the exposed flesh was smooth, and there was no evidence of a struggle. 

“Some sort of…message?” Ink mumbled.

Frisk had come up beside him, noticing something was wrong. Ink noticed their fearful expression, and stood up. He looked around. There was a new trail of blood. Curiosity was gripping at his feet, begging him to move. Frisk tugged at his sleeve.

“You’re not thinking of-!“ They looked defeated. 

“I’ll come find you guys.” Ink stated decisively, “I won’t get lost, I’ll leave markers for myself and I’ll...”

Frisk seemed to be contemplating his words. They stared at the trail of blood, and back at Ink. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

And with that, Frisk glanced back towards the group. Alphys, Asriel, Chara and Frisk. They could take care of themselves until they found each other again, Ink was sure of it. He waved towards them. Frisk smiled back, and turned once again towards the others. And they were separated.


	6. How Far can a Thought Travel?

Something was calling to Ink. Frisk and their group were barely out of sight, undoubtedly out of earshot, yet he heard something repulsive, something terrifying. It was calling his name. So, he turned, he turned to the trail of fresh blood, and he followed it.

It was all he could do.

Ink was immortal. He knew this, and so did Frisk. Because of this, he had somehow earned their trust. It scared him, this human who could trust someone based on a singular fact. But he couldn’t let that fear control him. 

As he walked, he thought. He thought about emotion. He thought about colors, he thought about creativity. He thought about the person who destroyed everything he’d worked so hard to protect. Eventually, he got tired of thinking. His legs hurt, his eyes were tired, and he still hadn’t found the mystery that this trail contained. Ink decided that he should sit. He was immortal, but he felt pain and tired easily. Stretching his legs out, he sat. He observed the blood that had been left on the ground. Even though he was sure he’d been walking for days, it was still fresh. It was still a bright red, and when touched, it rippled. 

He focused on it. Though blood was the mark of death, it had a sort of beauty to it. Death was the side effect of life, to live you must fear it, otherwise it will tear you apart. Ink had seen many die. As he had been slowly letting himself travel through his memory, he had come across something that sparked emotion in him. A memory where he too, feared death. It was the day his brother died. He barely remembered his brother, but Ink knew that he existed at one time, and that he treasured his brother.

This memory was a fragment of something larger, but Ink couldn’t remember what. What he did remember was sitting in an empty room with nothing but him, his brother, and a bed inside of it. He remembered the sound of panicked writing, and the feeling of defeat. He remembered crying. He remembered begging and pleading with someone. He remembered the burning feeling of loss, and the quiet stutter of agony. 

He still felt empty, rarely would anything satisfy him anymore. People bothered him, they confused him and expected him to know everything they wanted to understand. Food gave him weight, it filled the empty space between his spine and jacket, but never filled the emptiness that lifted his soul. He used to doodle, back when he tried to create artificial emotions for himself, but he no longer felt he had anything to draw, much less anything to draw with. 

Suddenly he heard footsteps. Ink calmed his mind and focused on the sound. They were loud, and echoed through the void of the universe. The footsteps didn’t sound like something that came from an animal.

Ink pulled a small dagger from his belt, given to him by Undyne as some sort of parting gift, and readied himself for a fight. He got to his feet and turned around to meet this…thing that had come for him. 

But there was nothing. He steadied himself and stared into the distance. Nothing was there to be seen. Ink questioned himself, wondering if insanity had finally graced him with its touch, when something hit him in the back of the head. For a second, he felt himself falling. Then everything went dark.


	7. White Roses

There was a light, a bright light, not like the white of the barren universe, but the type of light that shined, the type that had rays and could blind someone if they weren’t careful. Ink blinked. He could barely make out a figure, standing behind the light source. He attempted to sit up, but a hand from the figure forced him down. He heard voices, two people talking. They sounded serious, and one of them even sounded concerned. 

He reached upward, in a feeble attempt to block the light that was blinding him. Something grasped at his outstretched arm and held it away. He was starting to panic. For the first time in centuries, he was afraid.

Frisk was hungry. They could not die of starvation, but their body still acted in the ways of a mortal’s. It bled, it screamed, it felt pain, it grew, it even shrank. Frisk felt Chara tapping on their shoulder. The feeling of Chara’s finger brushing against the rough fabric that made their sweater filled Frisk with warmth. 

“Hungry?” Chara grinned.

“Yup.” Frisk wasn’t exactly in the mood to play games, but was craving the touch of another human. Error used to criticize Frisk for that. He would say things like ‘Craving for another’s presence will make you weak,’ or ‘Humans shouldn’t have to depend on each other to live, what happens when you all die?’. Frisk knew he’d never admit it, but sometimes Frisk would catch Error making contact with the others, the kind of contact that grants relief to those who are craving it. Frisk seemed to notice more than the others, they noticed the awkward glances between Asgore and Toriel, the soft gaze that Alphys and Undyne sometimes shared. Frisk noticed how Papyrus and Mettaton used to talk, and how Asriel and Chara always seemed to have some sort of unresolved tension surrounding them.

Frisk noticed these things, but everyone else seemed oblivious. So, they never talked about it.

And that was that.

Ink began to struggle. He didn’t understand why he was being held down, he didn’t understand why the people were trying to hide themselves, he didn’t understand, and that terrified him. His mind flashed to the thought of death. No…he wasn’t afraid of death at this moment. He was afraid of torture. And that fear, wherever it came from, it was forcing him to struggle. Ink heard another voice, coming from directly above him. It sounded familiar, and that familiarity calmed him. His struggle slowed, until he stopped struggling completely. He lay still, his eyes desperately trying to see beyond the bright light that blinded him, his hands reaching for something solid to hold on to. His hand finally grasped something, and the room went silent. He heard a soft whisper come from behind him, and then something similar to the sound of a door closing. He felt the presence of whoever had been beside him disappear, yet the light stayed where it was.

Then he heard a voice.

“Where are they?”

Ink was silent, the striking familiarity of the voice shocked him, and the question made his head hurt.

“Where are they?” The voice was stern, but Ink could feel this person’s desperation.

Ink reached out to cover the light, but the sound of a falling chair and quick footsteps made him pause. Once again, something smacked his hand out of the air and held it down.

“Answer the question!” The voice was filled with impatience. 

“I…I don’t-who are we talking about?” Ink could hardly speak.

Something fell somewhere, and immediately following the sound of crashing, the person beside Ink left the room. Ink put his hand up. No one came to hold it down. He sat up, and looked around.

It was an empty room, save for himself, a bed, and a picture of Papyrus.


	8. Light Cannot Exist Without Dark

Ink avoided looking at the image of Papyrus, and instead made his way to the door, which, as expected, was locked. Ink tried to get it open, but after a few minutes gave up. He sat on the floor, and observed the bed. It was made of a few gray bricks that created a flat surface to lay on, and over that sat a blanket, seemingly a substitute for a mattress. There was a single light bulb that hung over it, and it illuminated the room well. 

Reluctantly, he turned to examine the image of Papyrus. He already knew it wasn’t his Papyrus, but he still seemed familiar. After a few minutes of staring, he recognized that it was the Papyrus from the original timeline, after corruption it seemed. He was smiling, and looked nothing like he did today. Ink let himself be comforted by the photo, and just as he was about to pick it up, the door opened. 

“Are you done throwing your temper-tantrum?” It was the same voice as before.

“My wha-…” Ink turned to face the voice. He dropped the photo, and heard it clatter as it hit the ground. But he didn’t look at it. He didn’t try to pick it up. He was frozen, as if chains weighed his feet down, as if he was drowning in icy water.

Error began to laugh. “What? I bet you thought you’d never see me again, didn’t you?”

Ink was silent. He watched as Error drew a knife from his jacket pocket. Error held it up in front of him, and Ink could see that it was incredibly sharp. Ink broke free from his chains, and began to back away. He felt along his belt for the dagger, but it wasn’t there. 

Error was practically hysterical, “No one’s powers work here, remember? You can’t fight back, can you, buddy?”

Ink desperately searched for anything, whether it be a weapon or an escape. Eventually, he looked back at Error. His eyes were twitching, his mouth was dripping blood, it seemed as if he could barely stand. This pathetic being was going to…

Suddenly, Ink felt something. Within an instant, waves of guilt, anger and sadness washed over him. He heard himself collapse, he heard himself scream, he heard himself gasp for breath as a suffocating fear came over him. All at once, he felt. He couldn’t stop, and that scared him the most. He heard footsteps approaching him, and in a panic struggled to stand, and tried to run, but the black tears that had managed to fill his eyes were blinding him.

He couldn’t understand it. He couldn’t understand the pain that was tearing him apart. He couldn’t understand the burning emptiness or the suffocating guilt. All he could do was cry. Ink felt something brush against him. He didn’t know what it was, maybe the wall, maybe the bed, maybe a person, he didn’t care. He was so lost in his own emotion that he just needed something to grab onto, to remind him that he was still alive and that he wasn’t just wandering around in a void of emotion.

He was afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was really short, I know (iwi) but it was the perfect place to end it so, I'm sorry lol. Is anyone like, actually enjoying this, or am I just wasting my time lol


	9. Can You Hear Me?

“Frisk?”

They had all stopped to rest, exhaustion winning over their logic. Chara had been talking with their brother, but had now turned to Frisk with a look of concern. 

“Huh?”

Chara pointed at Frisk’s forehead. “There’s another one.”

Frisk felt their forehead. Chara was right. Another cord, Frisk could feel it. They had appeared after Error loaded their codes. Everyone had gained some sort of distortion because of that. Chara’s scars distorted over their face, changing from pink to a dark blue. Asriel’s horns had grown and cracked, and a chunk of his fur had fallen off of his face. Alphys turned a navy blue and had electrical cords constantly falling out of an opening in her arm. Papyrus turned a dark grey and had red markings that covered his body. Toriel lost one horn and both ears turned yellow. Asgore’s eye had been replaced with a red flower, and he’d lost one his arms in the transformation. Undyne had electrical cords that hung from her lower neck and covered her back. And Frisk had lost half of the hair that once covered their head, and electrical cords grew from both of their eye sockets. 

Frisk attempted to smile, and forced out a small laugh. “How does it look?”

Chara grinned, creasing their pink-tinted face. “I already told you! They look beautiful.”

There was a long silence that followed, as the two awkwardly stared in opposite directions. In the silence that had swallowed them up, there was a scream. A series of screams. One after the other, as if timed and played repeatedly in rhythmic agony. 

Frisk stood up, in attempt to hear them clearly. Looking back at the rest of the group, Frisk could see that they heard it too. Frisk moved towards Alphys, who gave a nod, signaling for Frisk to investigate. And in silence, Frisk began to run in the direction of the screaming.

Frisk recognized the voice. They knew that something had happened, but they weren’t sure what. They had never heard Ink’s scream. And this one was full of emotion. It scared them. But, they figured that it scared everyone else as well.

Suddenly, all at once, Frisk skidded to a halt. Just over the horizon they could see some sort of building. Waves of fear threatened to drown them, but they pushed through. They forced their feet to move, to run towards to enclosure. Each step brought Frisk closer to what felt like impending doom. 

A door opened. Footsteps pounded through an empty hall. People stared, shocked at the human’s presence, but Frisk kept running. Closer and closer, until they reached a locked door. The screaming was loud, Frisk felt like another step closer would only deafen them. They struggled with the lock. It was large, and covered the entire door like a barrier. But then the screams stopped.

Frisk froze, afraid to be heard, afraid that the sound of the lock would shatter the silence that finally welcomed them. There was a quiet sobbing that arose from the other side of the door, a defeated sound, like the cry of an abandoned kitten. 

Frisk began to unlock the door again, taking the time to be quiet. Eventually, the door swung open, and immediately Frisk felt something tug at their soul. Shock paralyzed their body, as they were dragged into an encounter.


End file.
